


The Benefits of Butter

by Rubynye



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: Food Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones bakes. Jim interrupts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Benefits of Butter

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Re_White and Sageness for beta reading.

"Bones! I've been looking for you everywhere!" Jim skids into the kitchen of their little shore leave bungalow, where Bones is pushing something into the oven and coincidentally bent over with his ass barely covered by worn dark boxers. Grabbing the doorframe for support-- real blond-wood, nice-- Jim takes the opportunity to ogle that particularly fine ass, its taut curves and firm musculature, as Bones growls quietly and fiddles a little with the placement of whatever's in the oven.

To say nothing of those long sculpted thighs, and Jim is just skimming his gaze along them when Bones turns, standing up and shutting the oven door, and Jim's view is blocked by-- an apron? He has a brief flash of disappointment that it's not lacy or frilly, just a plain white apron with a couple of yellowish stains, covering Bones's otherwise bare chest, tied at the waist and around the neck. "What?" is all Bones says as he regards Jim with one mildly cocked eyebrow and one side of his mouth quirked, pulling off quilted potholders as if they'd snap like surgical gloves.

"I woke up _alone_," Jim answers, making sure to emphasize the epic tragedy of that happenstance, and Bones rolls his eyes. "_All by myself,_ so I had to search all over for you and I wasn't expecting the _kitchen_, what are you making anyway when we can have thirty galactic cuisines delivered to our door?"

"Not dressed like that, you can't." Bones waves much too dismissively at Jim's naked form, crossing from the oven to the counter. Jim zigs towards the oven, more to make Bones veer back and intercept him than because of any investigative intentions; he can already tell by the batter-smeared bowl, measuring scoops and spatulas on the counter that it's some kind of starchy baking project, but his deductions as to the specific sort are pleasantly derailed by Bones's arm around his waist. "Oh, no you don't. And get off me, already." Bones attempts to sling Jim off against the counter, and Jim goes limp and clingy until Bones wedges the other hand against his chest and pushes. "I've got to--"

"What's in the oven?" Jim breathes in Bones's ear, nothing between Bones's hip and his awakening dick but soft threadbare cotton, and Bones may be scowling on the near side of his mouth but Jim can tell by that twitch of his chin that the far side's curving up.

"'M not telling you." Bones shoves harder, Jim grips his upper arm as his back hits the counter, and he ends up dipped back over it with Bones leaning on him, awesomely solid, heavy and warm. "It's for later."

"Oooh, a surprise." Jim lets his lips brush Bones's ear, hooking a knee behind Bones's thigh to hang on as Bones keeps pretending to struggle and pretty much just rubs against him. "This apron part of the surprise, too? You going to wear it to wake me up? Because I think the proper Naughty Maid version's supposed to have lace."

"The apron-- leggo, Jim," and that's sincere enough that Jim eases his hold. Bones leans back just enough to face him, and not only is he not really frowning but his eyes twinkle warm hazel-gold, so Jim exhales and grins and tips his head back, watching Bones's eyes flick to the arch of his throat. "The _apron's_ so I didn't get flour everywhere, which is exactly what's about to happen if you don't let me--" Jim decides to give Bones a break from the whole reluctant act by kissing him, feeling warmth like a smile as Bones grips him by the hips, shifting him away from the sharp-angled corner, and kisses him back.

The kitchen's starting to fill with a warm sweet scent, toasty sugar and perfumey vanilla, and under it Jim inhales Bones's tasty musk and wisps of sex left over from last night, his mouth watering as he licks into Bones's mouth. He rocks his hips under Bones's big enfolding hands, the weave of soft cloth imprinting his taut skin until Bones growls and catches Jim's bottom lip between his teeth as he lets go to yank the apron out from between them. Bones bites down lightly, just until the throb ratchets up to exquisite; Jim gasps a laugh and scrabbles at those boxers, shoving them down so they fall and he can get his hand around Bones's velvety, firming dick, pressing his wrist against his own.

Bones rumbles, getting handsy, groping and stroking up Jim's back and down his shoulders and sides, getting hungry too, getting into this. They could make out against the counter for hours, or at least until the oven timer goes off, but Jim's blood surges under Bones's palms, plasma-hot, and he knows what he wants. With Bones kissing him so his brain steams it takes a moment to remember the arrangement of scattered items on the counter, but he doesn't knock anything off or over before he closes his fingers around the squishy block of leftover butter. Lube thus safely in hand, Jim pulls his head back just far enough to murmur over Bones's lips, "Fuck me, huh?"

Bones twitches inside Jim's fist, shuddering all over, and it would be unsporting to smile, so Jim keeps his lips parted and soft as they tingle against the corner of Bones's mouth, the swell of his cheek. "Jim," he rumbles, something deep and wicked in his voice even though he's fighting it. "Give me a couple minutes to--"

"You don't want a couple minutes." Jim underscores this with a stroking squeeze, and Bones groans softly. "You wanna fuck me right here, you wanna bend me over this counter and bang me like a drum." Bones snorts, but his mouth's moving on Jim's jaw and he's not letting go, and Jim learned long ago how to ride momentum. "I don't know why you got out of bed when I was there, naked and ready, just waiting for you." Bones growls again, buzzing into Jim's skin, as Jim keeps stroking and keeps talking. "I went to sleep dreaming of you waking me up with a kiss, of waking you up with a lick, of a slow easy fuck in the morning sunshine."

"We can have that, you crazy kid," Bones rumbles, dragging his mouth up Jim's cheek, "if you'd just wait, until--"

"But I don't want that anymore," Jim explains, switching hands as Bones leans back to stare at him, gripping Bones by the hip and slathering him with the handful of butter, "I want a fast hard fuck, right here, right now."

Bones's eyes widen hilariously as he glances down. "Jesus, is that the _butter_? Of all the unsanitary--"

"It's not like I'm putting it back afterwards." Jim swirls his palm over the head of Bones's dick, coating it base to tip in a thick translucent layer of butter. "I bet it'll make excellent lube, it won't dry out or run off--"

Bones cuts him off this time, with a growl, a hand splayed tightly around his skull, a crackling-hard kiss. "Unbelievable," he rumbles, and Jim laughs in triumph as Bones turns him with impatient but gentle hands, thighs pressing up behind his, buttered dick sliding in his crack. "C'mere with that." Bones grabs Jim's hand, squeezing the rest of the butter off his fingers, planting the other hand between his shoulder blades.

Jim splays obligingly over the counter, pushing cups and spoons aside with his elbows, his heart thudding against the cool work surface. Something clatters to the floor and he jumps, but Bones doesn't even notice, concentrating on breaching him with an excruciatingly careful finger. "Come on, fuck me," Jim snaps, as commandingly as he can, but this is Bones so all he gets for it is being pushed down a little harder. "Come on, Bones, fuck me already, I don't need prep, the shape of your dick's imprinted on my insides, come on for fuck's sake-- _oh!_" as Bones absolutely jabs his prostate.

"Shut it," Bones informs Jim with rough-gentle mercilessness that makes him grin against the countertop and gasp as Bones strokes another electric throb into him. "Goddamn impatient gorgeous fucking idiot, you'll get it at my speed or not at all."

"Gorgeous," Jim echoes, liking the sound of it in Bones's thickening drawl, liking the way Bones growls at the reminder. "Gorgeous and yours and just waiting for you to fuck me." He bucks backwards, or tries to with Bones's thighs pinning his.

The point's made, anyway. "_Shit_," Bones swears over him, restraining hand starting to shake, pulling that finger out kind of fast, but the thick slick layer of butter keeps it from tugging. Which is good when Bones pushes his dick in its place, humming through gritted teeth. Jim hisses, shoved up against the countertop so its edge brands his abs, slick hand sliding as he tries to push back, and it's smooth but it's still a crackling galvanic stretch as Bones unhurriedly fills him.

He loves every gloriously achy second of it. "Bones, Bones, Bones," he chants, "fuck me, I'm dying for it, please." Bones shudders with every word, sinking closer until he's sunk flush, draped over Jim's back, nipples two raised points in the sweat-slick firmness of his chest.

"Goddamnit, _Jim_," Bones mumbles, thick-voiced and dazed, slick fingers sliding over Jim's hip to wrap spectacularly perfect pressure around his aching dick, and Jim gives it up and whimpers. "Dammit," Bones moans against his shoulder, laying a lingering kiss there, starting to move. He's angled carefully, just right, and Jim feels sparks and sees stars and shouts high and raspy on each stroke, not even caring what he sounds like. This is his Bones and this is what he wanted since he woke up and what he still can't believe he has after all this time, and he gropes for Bones's hand clutching the counter, awkwardly squeezing it as he squeezes his eyes shut and just feels Bones fucking him.

Bones shifts his hand so their fingers can tangle, speeds up his strokes into and on Jim, and Jim _could_ say 'Yes' or 'so good' or 'like that' or maybe 'love you' but screaming pretty much says it all. Bones breathlessly kisses his shoulders and slams pleasure into him and all he can smell is butter and caramel and clean salty sweat. His throat's warmly sore and his thighs are shaking, and Bones's voice is veined with cracks when he gasps, "Jim, fuck, _Jim_," and that's what sets Jim off, flashing red light behind his eyelids in time to the spasms of glory wracking his body.

Bones is right behind him, cursing against his spine, thrusts going wild and erratic as he starts to come, and Jim swears to himself he can feel every spurt. Still flat over Jim's back, Bones struggles to hold himself up, pulling his fingers from Jim's to grab the countertop, and in the wake of receding ecstasy Jim can feel the edge pressing into his belly again, his guts starting to rumble emptily behind it. Bones kisses his nape one more time, puffing slightly, and Jim feels their heartbeats pounding, 'each to each' as the poem says, and just breathes.

The timer goes off, shrill and ringing. "Oh, fuckydoodle," Bones grouses as Jim laughs quietly, pushing away from him with a slick squelching sound, kind of stagger-dashing across the room to shove his hands into the sink. "God almighty, Jim, the things you make me do. Go, go."

"Go where? I'm kinda covered in come and butter, here." Jim gets his elbows beneath him and turns to watch Bones, sweat-sheened and moving muscles sleek under his skin, frantically scrubbing his hands as the timer keeps bleeping.

"The _shower,_" Bones snaps, clearly tallying up each and every head injury he's seen Jim sustain. "I'll be there in five. Now shoo!"

Jim laughs and doesn't hiss when standing up twinges sharply. He wouldn't limp but he does stagger a little on unsteady feet, listening to Bones cursing and cookware clattering behind him. And Bones arrives in the shower in 3.75 minutes flat.

*^*^*^*

 

Jim finds out at dinnertime what Bones made this morning, when after a delivered meal of somewhat authentic Terran pan-Western which all had a little too much oreganoish herb but was otherwise quite tasty, Bones pops into the kitchen and reappears with a little golden star-shaped cake on a plate, stuck with one LED-on-a-stick.

He sets it down as he sits again, and for a moment Jim just blinks at it, his mind shifting into full impulse. It's not close to anyone's birthday, especially his, thank all that's holy. Bones watches him with a quiet face and huge dark eyes, and Jim tentatively starts to smile, until he figures out the date.

Five years ago he got on a shuttle wearing a blood-spattered shirt, and a disheveled ranting doctor sat down beside him.

Once he gets it the smile takes over Jim's face, and he can't sit all the way across the table from Bones anymore. "Seriously, you made a cake for our anniversary?"

Bones actually blushes, looking sideways. "Seemed like someone ought to," he mumbles, and Jim pretty much launches at that, just barely managing to make himself go around the table rather than straight across. Bones looks up, startled and barely hiding being pleased, when Jim straddles his lap, the table's edge pressing across the small of Jim's back.

"Thank you," Jim says with every gram of sincerity he possesses, and kisses Bones before he can say anything self-deprecating. "This is..." he reaches over and breaks off a piece, popping it into his mouth, and it's fine-grained, plushly dense and disintegrates into a pool of tasty vanilla-toast sweetness. "Delicious," he finishes, as Bones's hands settle on his knees. "Want some?"

"Glad you like it." Bones nods. "The eggs were purple, I have no idea what kind of bird they're from," he says, curling his hands around Jim's thighs, "but at least I found real dairy butter. Which is all gone now," he finishes with a completely pathetic stab at sounding pissy.

"Yeah, I had fun too," Jim says serenely, breaking off a piece for Bones, who kisses his fingers as he takes it, his lips soft and a smile in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Pinch-hit for [](http://community.livejournal.com/km_anthology/profile)[**km_anthology**](http://community.livejournal.com/km_anthology/), prompt "Cooking with sex in the kitchen".


End file.
